by Lisa Heidke
What was he doing here? Through the window in my bedroom, I could see and hear Jack out on the patio laughing as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Didn’t he know I was in the middle of a crisis?
No one should ever make an impromptu visit to a person’s house the morning after a huge night out. A night out where the said person had been partying and now just wanted to recover by lying in the sun and feeling sorry for herself. It wasn’t fair. On top of everything, Marcus had been ringing all morning about his precious bloody package.
I brushed my hair over the bruise on my face, but I couldn’t figure out what to wear. I had absolutely no clothes. All I knew was that I had to wear flat shoes but that was silly because I didn’t have any apart from thongs I’d bought at a street stall. I glanced into the cupboard. Thongs it was.
Stay calm. Think rationally. What could I wear, given that I was feeling fat, untidy and unwell? The shorts? No. They’d expose too much thigh. Singlet? No. That would emphasise my upper arms. Skirt? Definitely not. Skirts cut my waist in half and made me look short and pudgy —
‘What the hell are you doing in here?’ Tara barked, flinging open the bedroom door.
I jumped. ‘What are you doing in here, more like it? You scared the bejesus out of me.’
‘Speed it up, girlie. Put this shirt on,’ she said, tossing a white T-shirt at me.
‘It’s crumpled. Besides, I’m too pasty to wear white —’
After rummaging in the cupboard, she threw some long pants down on the bed. ‘Shut up and put it on with these culotty type things.’
‘Culottes? These are not culottes.’
‘Whatever you want to call them, put them on and get downstairs now.’
It would have been far better had Sophie burst into my room. At least she would have thoughtfully advised me about what to wear, rather than throwing anything into my wretched puffy face.
I was finally ready. As ready as I’d ever be this morning, considering that today was up there with one of the worst days in recent memory. I edged down the stairs slowly, holding the handrail for support.
‘Hi, Jack,’ I said in a bright voice when I’d finally made it to the lounge room. He didn’t turn around. No one did. All four of them were glued to the TV watching a report about Lindsay Lohan. I slouched against the wall and closed my eyes, waiting for a fresh wave of nausea to pass. Then I jumped to the sound of an ear-piercing cymbal clanging. Bloody Levi!
Certainly Jack didn’t look like he’d had a rough night. His clothes didn’t have that slept-in look. In fact, his well-proportioned and tanned face was freshly shaven and alert. The Jack pack scored a big thumbs-up.
‘Good morning,’ he said, walking across to me after noticing me staring. ‘Just catching up on why LiLo has been arrested again.’
‘Shush,’ Sophie said, pushing the volume button on the remote control.
‘And?’ I whispered as we walked outside to the terrace. Rather, Jack walked, I stumbled, clutching at the walls for support wherever I could.
‘Throwing drinks in a bar, the usual.’
It was far too early in the day for me to concentrate. Besides, the bruise on the side of my face was throbbing.
‘Is it hot out here or is it just me?’ I said, sitting down carefully. I was on fire — and not the good ‘I’m on fire’ either. I was sweating liquor. Jack was watching, waiting for me to speak again. To say something that made sense.
‘It’s really hot, isn’t it?’ I said, waving my hand in front of my face like an imaginary fan.
‘Sophie and Tara have been filling me in about how your night ended,’ Jack said just as Tara and Sophie joined us.
‘Not the toilet thing,’ Sophie mouthed. (I had no idea what she meant by that.)
‘Good night, was it?’ Jack grinned. ‘You’ve certainly got a good set of lungs. I’ll give you that.’
They all laughed. I didn’t. ‘Yes, laugh all you want, traitors . . . I’ll remember this the next time you’re all hungover and feeling sorry for yourselves. I, too, will show no mercy.’
‘What happened to your face?’ Jack said suddenly, his eyes zooming in on my cheek. Did Jack have a sensitive side? I liked that.
‘Nothing,’ I said coolly, dismissing my injury with a casual hand wave. ‘Slight slip with a microphone, that’s all.’
‘Hmm,’ he said, inspecting my cheek closer than I’d have liked. He’d be able to count every enlarged pore on my nose if he got any closer. ‘You do have a touch of the Rickys about you.’
‘Pardon?’
‘The Rickys, as in Ricky Dennis, aka Eric Stoltz in Mask . . . Elephantiasis.’
‘Yes, I know who he is,’ I said, waving him away. So much for Jack being sensitive. He was an oaf, a dolt. I didn’t think I looked that grotesque.
‘Or William Hurt . . . elephant man,’ Tara said.
‘Do you mind? I’m in pain here,’ I snapped.
‘Claud, you don’t look too bad considering the huge night you had,’ said Jack.
I glared at him. How did he know?
I caught a whiff of my hair. Ugh. It stank — cigarettes, alcohol and sweat. I had washed it, several times, but the smell stuck around. Another wave of queasiness washed over me. Off you trot, I thought, so I can collapse in a heap on the floor. But Jack wasn’t moving.
‘How about a late breakfast?’ he suggested.
‘Gee, I’d love to, Jack,’ I lied, suppressing the urge to vomit, ‘but I’ve got things to do today, and besides, I promised Levi I’d take him to the beach.’
After mumbling something vague about seeing him tomorrow, Jack finally departed.
‘I thought he’d never leave,’ I said to the others later as we sat on rickety wooden stools outside the local shops.
Tara shook her head. ‘I don’t get it. I thought you liked Jack?’
‘She does,’ said Sophie. ‘But she’s scared of getting her heart broken again, aren’t you, Claudie?’
‘No, I did want him to leave. I looked atrocious.’ I didn’t want Sophie to be right, but she was. I couldn’t go through another heartbreak so soon after Marcus. I was happy to have fun with Jack as long as my feelings for him didn’t deepen. But I’d come to learn that my feelings pretty much did whatever they wanted. I had no control over them and that frightened me.
‘And?’ Sophie persisted.
I glared at her. ‘And nothing! End of story.’
The last thing I had wanted to do was venture out into public but my desire for a Coke Zero and grease was stronger than my urge to lie by the pool and wallow. Besides, Levi had overheard the beach remark and, as a bribe for not really taking him, we’d reached an agreement whereby I’d buy him a block of chocolate. A big block.
I looked like death and wasn’t feeling much better. My cheek throbbed and my feet were a mass of blisters. So much for being a mature woman.
After wolfing down a kebab and guzzling a Coke, I didn’t feel any better. In fact, I felt much worse.
‘I think I need to lie down,’ I said to the others.
‘No argument from me,’ said Tara, standing.
‘Me either,’ agreed Soph. ‘Levi and I will read some stories, won’t we, Leeve?’ Hearing that, Levi shook his head and ran on ahead. We watched as he sprinted along the path. None of us was in any condition to keep up.
Reaching Marcella’s, we began the long descent to our apartment.
‘Soph, did you leave the door open?’ Tara asked as we neared the bottom of the stairs and saw that the front door to our apartment was wide open.
‘Don’t think so,’ she replied. It usually fell upon Sophie to lock up, as she and Levi were normally last out.
No one could remember who’d left the apartment last this morning. Two hours seemed like days ago. It could have been any one of us.
I stepped off the stairs and onto the terrace. Sophie held Levi’s hand and we caught up to Tara who was peeking inside.
‘Fuck,’ she said, as we gathered around her. ‘So
me arsehole’s broken in.’
In the living room, drawers had been wrenched from cabinets and thrown onto the floor, as had books, magazines and sofa cushions. Chairs lay overturned. It was a huge mess but nothing appeared broken.
‘Aarrhh,’ shrieked Sophie from her bedroom. Tara and I rushed in. Drawers lay on the bed and floor and her clothes from the cupboard were strewn about the place. Even Levi’s toy case had been opened and tossed about.
After giving Soph a quick hug, Tara and I raced upstairs. My room was as messed up as Sophie’s. Tara’s room looked pretty much as it had that morning.
‘My notebooks, my notebooks,’ Tara screamed, before finding them and flipping through the pages to make sure nothing had been ripped out.
‘Chesta! I am so so sorry,’ Marcella said when she arrived soon after. ‘I apologise.’
‘It’s not your fault, Marcella,’ I said.
‘Nothing seems to have been taken,’ said Sophie, holding up her passport.
‘Oh no,’ said Marcella, verging on hysteria. ‘I call i astinomia, police.’ She walked back upstairs but not before telling us not to touch anything.
For the next hour we waited out on the terrace until the police arrived. Together with Marcella, they walked from room to room making notes.
‘Surely we can have a cup of tea while they’re here,’ said Sophie, walking outside armed with a tray of tea and chocolates.
I hadn’t even noticed she’d disappeared inside to put the kettle on, but the tea was very welcome.
‘Maybe the gods are trying to tell us something,’ Sophie said after a while, her words hanging in the air. ‘First the scooter and now this.’
I’d been thinking the same thing. I was feeling guilty and debating whether to tell the girls about the Athenian incident, but the more I thought about it, the more confused I became. Maybe I was letting my imagination get the better of me. Still, my heart was pounding as I double-checked the daypack I’d taken to the café. The yellow envelope was still in the side pocket — crushed and smeared with chocolate, but safe. Imagine what Marcus would have said if that had gone missing.
‘What are you mumbling about?’ Tara asked.
‘Nothing,’ I said and finished the last of my tea.
When Marcella walked outside onto the terrace with the police, she apologised again. ‘Kids,’ she said, throwing her hands into the air.
The general consensus was that the break-in had been done by kids — skylarking juveniles who had probably done it as a dare and were no doubt looking for loose change and jewels while they were at it. Ha! They lucked out big-time.
‘It’s okay, no real harm done,’ I said as Marcella was leaving. I’d convinced myself that telling Sophie and Tara about the incident in Athens would only lead to unnecessary hysteria. But five minutes later, I told them anyway.
Taking a deep breath, I began, ‘I don’t want to alarm you, guys, but maybe this isn’t a coincidence.’
‘What exactly do you mean, Claud, not a coincidence?’ Tara said.
I took another deep breath and told them everything. Sophie and Tara didn’t say a word during my admission. They didn’t look happy.
‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ Sophie asked when I’d finished.
‘Because I didn’t want you getting upset. I didn’t want the incident ruining our few days in Athens.’
‘No, of course not,’ snarled Tara. ‘Had it occurred to you that the two events, now three, might be connected?’
I shook my head. ‘Not at the time, no.’
‘So explain to me how this has all happened. First, you witness a beating —’
‘I couldn’t really see —’
‘— a black scooter almost runs you down —’
‘A learner driver who couldn’t see the bend in the road properly.’
‘— and now our apartment shredded.’
‘The police said it was kids —’
‘You’re kidding, aren’t you? You don’t believe a bunch of kids would trash our place for fun, do you? What next?’
‘Nothing, I hope. Look no real harm’s been done. Nothing was stolen or broken. I’m probably just being overly dramatic. Marcus always accuses me of being paranoid and maybe I am a little.’
‘Claudia. That’s so typical of you. No harm’s been done! What are you thinking?’
I silently cursed myself for opening my big mouth. I wanted to talk about it calmly but in the back of my mind I knew Tara would get all high and mighty. And Soph had gone back inside to attend to Levi.
‘You don’t have the excuse of being young and crazy any more,’ Tara continued. ‘Not only are you being reckless with your own life, you’re messing up ours as well.’ Tara pointed inside towards Sophie and Levi. ‘Wake up to yourself, for Christ’s sake. The juvenile things you do have consequences.’
‘Jesus, Tara!’ I said, my voice breaking.
‘Look around you. Is this okay? What is it with Marcus and this goddamn envelope? Marcus shouts you a luxury holiday in Greece in exchange for handing some guy an envelope — couldn’t he have done it via courier, or the internet?’
I didn’t look at her.
‘Don’t tell me.’ Tara was fuming. ‘You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you?’
‘Why would you say that?’
‘Because you’ve been acting peculiar all holiday. Marcus this and Marcus that. So, are you?’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘Oh.’ Tara took a moment. ‘I’m sorry. It just sounded suspicious. I thought —’
‘At least . . . not any more.’
‘I knew it!’
‘Tara, please don’t tell Sophie. She’d never forgive me.’
‘Forgive you for what?’ Sophie said, walking back outside.
‘If the guy on the scooter had swerved and hit Levi,’ I said, thinking fast.
‘But he didn’t,’ said Sophie. ‘Levi’s safe. Nothing happened to him.’
Tara clocked me. ‘Maybe you should call Marcus,’ she said, then stomped back inside.
Tara had a point. It was one thing to deliver an envelope. Completely another if all these disasters had something to do with it. I was sure I was just being paranoid, but now I’d dragged Sophie and Tara into it.
I took the phone out of my bag and considered the time in Brisbane. Again, it would be close to 11 pm. I guessed that wasn’t too unreasonable, so I dialled Marcus’s number.
‘It’s Claudia —’
‘Do you have any idea what time it is? This had better be good,’ he said. ‘Have you met with Con?’
‘That’s what I’m ringing about —’
‘Have you given him the envelope?’
‘No, and don’t snap at me. Weird things have been —’
‘Weird? What’s weird?’
‘When I went to see Con in Athens and he wasn’t there, I could have sworn —’
‘Claudia, do I really have to listen to this? It’s late and I’ve had a busy day.’ Marcus sounded tired and exasperated. ‘I’ve told you before, you’re paranoid.’
‘I’m not. A scooter almost collected me, today our apartment was broken in to —’
‘And the envelope? Because that’s why you’re in Greece, after all.’
‘The envelope’s still here.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
‘I’m freaking out, that’s what.’
‘You’re a tourist. The locals are razzing you. Grow a backbone, for God’s sake. I’ll ring Con. Meanwhile, stay out of trouble. I’m going back to sleep.’
‘Okay, well if —’ But there was no point continuing. Marcus had already hung up.
15
The next morning I lay in bed thinking. I wasn’t about to lose my cool. Okay, on the downside, the apartment had been broken in to. But on the plus side, nothing had been stolen.
Last night Marcella had again spoken with the local sergeant and she had relayed the news back to me, because I was still sitting on our terrace until late,
reading the silly book Liz and Sarah had given me for my birthday.
I’d already mastered ‘a cartwheel across the dance floor in a nightclub’ (many years ago). But I’d yet to ‘find a pair of sunglasses that make you look really cool’.
Marcella had said that because nothing had been taken, there was little action the police could take. ‘Tourists are targets,’ they’d told Marcella.
On hearing that, I had felt calmer. If anything, it was our own fault the apartment had been ransacked — we should have made sure all the doors and windows were properly locked. When Tara’d had time to sleep on it, she would see the incident for what it really was — an unfortunate holiday mishap not at all related to my other unfortunate holiday mishaps.
I pulled back the sheets, climbed out of bed and padded over to the dressing table mirror. The bruising on my cheek had gone down significantly. The fact that my face was red from sunburn helped. It disguised the yellow-purple tinge. Things were on the up and up.
Content I no longer resembled anything to do with elephants, I changed into navy shorts and a white cheesecloth shirt, brushed my hair and wrapped it in a tiny nest on top of my head. I wandered downstairs to the kitchen and flipped on the kettle before making myself a huge bowl of yogurt and honey.
Out on the terrace, I adjusted the banana lounge, sat down with coffee and yogurt and contemplated the view and the fact that I would soon no longer be living in poverty. Sweet! My serenity was soon shattered by Sophie’s usually quiet voice booming over the phone.
‘Yes he’s good. Having a great time, despite our apartment being broken into by some madman. Although I know you’re too busy to concern yourself with such triflings, Alex.’
I tried not to listen in to her conversation but it was impossible given that Sophie sounded like a cat being strangled. Not only that, but I caught sight of the pile of knitting on the sofa. She must have been hard at it for hours. At the rate she was going, she’d be able to open a jumper shop by the time we left Santorini.
‘Congratulations. I am so happy for you, Alex, but doesn’t that mean you’ll be working even longer hours?’ Silence. ‘I said I was happy for you. Aren’t you listening to me? Well, that would be a first . . . I’m selfish? Yeah, well, screw you.’ I looked up from my magazine to see a mobile phone flying across the living room.